In Which Dracula Meets Jabba the Hutt
by Boogum
Summary: "Penny, what are you doing in my room? No one is allowed in my room." There was a pause. "And why are you not wearing any clothes?"


It hardly needs to be said, but I do not own _The_ _Big Bang Theory_. If I did, Leonard and Penny would have never happened, there would be less picking on our favourite Homo Novus, and we'd all be celebrating a canon!Shenny kiss right now.

Also, this is my first TBBT fic, so I do apologise if it feels a little rough around the edges. Big thank you to Lia for beta-reading!

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><p><strong>In Which Dracula Meets Jabba the Hutt<strong>

It had been an honest mistake. She'd been a little tipsy—okay, maybe a lot—and it had suddenly seemed imperative to her intoxicated mind that she seek out Leonard and talk with him. Alright, fine, have sex with him. But it was his fault that she could no longer enjoy her dimpled chinned, perfectly tanned gym junkies, because now all she could see was the three brain cells that made those hot bodies function—a level of idiocy that, alas, no amount of muscle or sex appeal could disguise. So died her passion for the Zacks of the world, leaving her with no choice but to accept that she now preferred a palette of man which featured some intelligence. Of course, the only available—and normal—man she knew with some intelligence was Leonard.

Which brings us back to the mistake. Because Penny had not made it to Leonard's room. Somewhere during her stealth mission into 4A she had got diverted and stumbled into the room of that other brand of human species—the elusive Homo Novus. And the Homo Novus, as Sheldon Cooper informed in a much more convoluted way to anyone unwise enough to ask, did not find the thought of physical contact appealing.

It is no surprise, then, to infer what happened once Penny had shimmied off her clothes, slipped under the covers, and straddled her rather Dracula-looking prey. There was a shriek of 'Danger', much flailing of limbs, and then a far too large hand made contact with a far too naked breast and the shrieking abruptly stopped. Penny had also frozen, trying to determine through the fog of alcohol clouding her senses why 'Leonard' was acting like she was the human incarnation of Jabba the Hutt, and how those hobbitish hands of his had suddenly got large enough to cup her breast so perfectly.

There was a sharp intake of breath and the warm hand was removed from her skin, much to her displeasure. She had been rather enjoying the feel of those long fingers and that all-enclosing palm. Then a voice said with just a hint of fear, and with a much more disastrous hint of a Texan drawl:

"Penny, what are you doing in my room? No one is allowed in my room." There was a pause. "And why are you not wearing any clothes?"

That was when it all fell into place: the screams of danger, the large hands, the stiff body laid out flat on the bed as if to rest in a coffin. This was not Leonard. This was a nightmare.

"Sheldon?" she asked, squirming in dismay, and still half-hoping that her conclusions were wrong and that it was Leonard—normal, much too eager to please Leonard—who she was currently sitting on as if about to go all Junior Rodeo, x-rated style.

The slight twist of her hips that had accompanied her squirm had a dramatic effect on her victim. He exhaled in an odd little gasp and, if it was possible, the body stretched out underneath her became even more rigid. She could not hear Sheldon breathing now. Indeed, had she not been able to feel his heart beating in a wild flutter against her hands—which she still had splayed on his chest—she might have wondered if she had somehow managed to kill him. Once, she'd broken the lanky physicist just by asking him to show some emotion when helping him act out his script; there was no saying what being trapped between the thighs of naked woman would do to that fragile mind. Actually, it was an amusing thought.

"Penny."

His voice was muted, almost pleading, and very unlike his usual patronising tone. She stared down into his shadowed face, feeling just a little bit guilty for putting him in this situation; however, there was another part of her—the part that was still sloshing happily around with half a dozen glasses of wine and a few shots of vodka—that got sidetracked by how warm his body felt through the flannelette of his pyjamas. She wondered if his bare skin would feel just as delightful if she pressed herself up against him.

"Penny," Sheldon repeated in that same small voice. "Penny, what are you doing in my room? No one is allowed in my room."

And there went her buzz.

"Great," Penny muttered, removing her hands from his chest with the sigh of one momentarily sobered. "I've got him stuck on auto-response."

Sheldon twitched as if resisting the urge to leap up from the bed. "Penny," he repeated, this time more fretfully.

"I know, I know, I know!" Penny exclaimed, rubbing her cheeks. "No one is allowed in your room."

"Actually, I was going to ask if you could get off me," he responded, in a sudden shift to his normal condescending voice. "I am not at all comfortable with this arrangement and do not appreciate having my circadian rhythms disrupted for what I can only assume, judging by the smell of cheap libations drenching your person, is an alcohol-induced _faux pas_ on your part. I would have thought by now that even you would be intelligent enough to remember that Leonard's room is down the hall. He will be more than happy to help you satisfy your banal primal urges."

Penny pursed her lips, even as she clenched her hands into fists. She was definitely straddling Sheldon Cooper, alright. And resisting the urge to punch him.

Her silence must have unnerved him, because she felt his body stretch and twist as if he were trying to shuffle out from underneath her. Then there was the sound of a switch being flicked. Light flared up from the lamp he kept by his bedside table, making her blink. She looked down to meet the vivid blue eyes that now stared at her in a mixture of wariness and accusation and then, as the seconds passed, just plain discomfort. He didn't glance anywhere but at her face, but then he didn't need to. With his eidetic memory combined with the sneaky peek he'd stolen after she'd dislocated his shoulder, he already knew what a naked Penny looked like. Which is why she was not surprised to see a light dusting of pink stain his cheeks. What did surprise her was the unmistakable nudge she felt against her thigh.

The splotches of pink darkened rapidly and his eye began to twitch with alarming speed. "Good Lord, woman, are you as deaf as you are inebriated?" he exclaimed, breathing hard through his nostrils. "I requested you to extricate yourself from my person. Now!"

Penny allowed her lips to curve into an evil little smile. She could tell by the way he kept awkwardly flexing his hands that he was resisting the urge to shove her. No doubt he was horrified at the thought of touching her naked skin—or just her in general, because who knew what germs she was carrying—to actually take action and remove her himself. She could also tell, judging by the building pressure of the bump pressing into her thigh, that he was not as immune to her alcohol smelling body as he wished her to believe.

A sober Penny would have taken pity on him and left, realising that most of his rudeness was, in fact, a ploy to protect his own dignity. The Penny that was still sloshing around in a whirlpool of "cheap libations" simply decided it was payback time for all his snarky comments. Mr Spock was about to discover why being asexual was a hard front to maintain.

"Sheldon," Penny said softly. Too softly.

He held her gaze, though his right eye continued to twitch. "Yes, Penny."

She trailed a finger down his chest, enjoying the way he squirmed. "You wouldn't happen to be hiding a lightsaber under that blanket, would you?"

Sheldon's eyebrows lifted in genuine puzzlement. "Why would I have a lightsaber in my bed? A lightsaber is a weapon only used by Jedi and Siths, and while I would not be against joining either sect, to have a lightsaber in my bed would be an illogical act on my part. Now if we were in the Chalmun's Cantina—"

Too late did Penny realise her mistake. She placed a hand over his mouth, effectively shushing him. Twitch, twitch, twitch went the right eye.

"Never mind that now, sweetie." Her smile grew sly, and she played with the top button of his pyjama top. "I only ask because, well—"

She leaned down and whispered something in his ear. His jaw locked as he gritted his teeth, and she could almost feel the heat of his blush against her skin. So much for being an emotionless Vulcan; Sheldon Cooper was all man. Very much so, if that bump digging into her thigh was anything to go by.

He met her amused look with blazing eyes. "I would very much like it if you would leave now," he said tightly.

Penny looked deep into those vivid blue irises, seeing the anger, the discomfort, and even the small glints of fear swirling within. She knew this was the point where she should back down and call a truce; she had humiliated him in the most exquisite way possible—by making the self-proclaimed Homo Novus realise he was just a man and that no amount of trying to live the Vulcan way of life could halt the flows of blood that gathered in his nether regions when he was sexually aroused. To push the matter further would be cruel and, indeed, unjust. It was her mistake that had put them in this situation. He had every right to be annoyed. Every right to make snarky comments.

Except Penny was still dealing with the tragedy that no more men crafted in the shape of Grecian statues would be on her dating menu, and that bulge digging into her thigh was putting some rather naughty thoughts in her mind. Like what would happen if she shifted just a few fractions to the right and allowed that aptly named lightsaber to come in alignment with her Covertec Belt Clip.

And that was how Penny made mistake number two. Because it suddenly didn't matter that he was the living epitome of Dracula in his coffin. What mattered was that those eyes of his were incredibly, incredibly blue, those lips were full and soft looking, and she was about as drunk as a skunk that had fallen in a whole barrel of Nebraskan Corn Whiskey. In short, Penny forgot that Sheldon Cooper was bat crazy and kissed him full on the mouth.

He made a muffled sound of protest, but he did not push her away—admittedly, nor did he respond. He just lay there beneath her, immovable and frozen, and no doubt chanting the Vulcan code in his mind. Penny took his unresponsiveness as a challenge and placed her hands on either side of his face, deepening the kiss, and using all her arts to elicit some kind of reaction from him. He certainly twitched when she ran the tip of her tongue over the seam of his lips, and though his mouth was yielding, his body remained as stiff as a plank of wood.

Penny pulled back from the kiss and stared into his eyes, noting the way his pupils had dilated to swallow the blue in a pool of black. He was breathing sharply—a sure sign of arousal—but he still refused to do as much as respond to the pressure of her lips. It was very frustrating and not at all how she had expected this seduction to go. Penny was a big 'ol five and used to getting her way. There was no room for a suppressed man-child. She wanted just the man.

That was when she made mistake number three. Because Penny decided that kissing was clearly not enough and, in an attempt to switch him from Vulcan to human, gently rubbed her thigh against his, ahem, lightsaber. Not surprisingly, that did get a response. Unfortunately, it was not quite the one that she had been hoping to inspire. For Sheldon did indeed allow those long, pianist hands of his to encircle her bare arms. It was a wonderful sensation, an intoxicating sensation—until he neatly pushed her off him and backed up against his headboard like a cornered deer, his eyes wide and his whole body twitching with nervous tics. Oh yes, she was most definitely back to being Jabba the Hutt.

"Sheldon," she began, holding out her hands in a placating way.

"Penny, I would like you to leave," he said in a rush, and looking like he was going to bolt any second. "It would also be beneficial if you would put your clothes back on."

Penny repressed a sigh. So much for thinking that she could seduce Doctor Whackadoodle Cooper. All she'd earned was three strikes and a whole lot of sexual frustration. But then she looked at him again—_really_ looked at him—and she saw the confusion and distress blinking back at her from those wide, blue eyes.

_I really am Jabba the Hutt_, she thought miserably. _I took advantage of my Princess Leia, and now I've ruined him_.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Penny said, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know what came over me."

Her shame was acute, and that was bringing a sobering effect to her thoughts.

Sheldon relaxed a little, though he continued to watch her warily. "Apology accepted, but I would still appreciate it if you would get dressed and leave me to resume my circadian rhythms." A crease formed on his brow. "Not that there is much point now that you have ruined my REM cycle with your crass attempts to find physical gratification."

Green eyes snapped up with a flash. "I dare you to repeat that."

Suddenly, he was the cornered deer again, if not a bewildered one. "Which part? The asking you to leave or—"

But the look on Penny's face had him falling silent. He smoothed down his plaid pyjama top and licked his lips. Penny's mouth curved into a smile. Damn straight Dracula had nothing on Jabba the Hutt.

Still smiling, she stood up from the bed and gathered up her scattered clothing. Sheldon watched as she slipped back into her panties and nightwear. He visibly swallowed when she leaned forward, positioning her face just inches from his. Their eyes met for a fleeting second and then, before he could realise what was happening, she closed the gap between them and kissed him softly on the lips.

"Sweet dreams, Moonpie," she murmured, pulling back. "If you ever want to try out that lightsaber sometime, you know where to find me."

Sheldon's brows descended into a heavy frown. "Don't call me Moonpie. Only my Memaw calls me Moonpie, and I already told you that I don't own a lightsaber, though I'm sure Leonard would let you borrow his."

Penny repressed a snort of amusement. "Oh, I'm sure he would, but it's yours I'm curious about."

Now the corners of his mouth curved down. "I don't understand what you mean."

"I know, sweetie. That's why you're crammed up against that wall and I'm about to go have another shot of vodka."

Sheldon was still frowning when she opened the door and left the room. Penny could only shake her head in resignation. That man was clueless, but holy crap on a cracker! That was some serious Jedi equipment he was packing in those tighty whities of his. She was definitely going to have to remember that, and plan accordingly.

As the saying went, she might have been the Jabba to his Dracula this time, but next time would be different. Next time she planned on being the Uhura to his Spock.


End file.
